Letters to Space
by Things In Sunbeams
Summary: Because they still write to eachother, even though a universe keeps them apart. A series of letters, all centred around the Doctor and Rose. 10/Rose. Set any time after Journeys End.
1. Chapter 1

**So , hello! This is the first thing've ever written, and I'm really nervous about it, but yeah, I hope you enjoy this! :) **

**Diclaimer: I have all the Doctor Who box sets... but thats as far as my ownership goes. Not mine. :(**

**This is for my lovely Abbie, my twin, who I love very dearly. She's the one that pressured me into making an account on here, and she's been so supportive and lovely, and I just love you, even if you do mock me for being over emotional. ;)**

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><p><strong>Letters to space.<strong>

When she wakes in the mornings, she always feels lost.

Every morning, she wakes before him, (he blames it on his Donna side, but she's pretty sure he's just lazy...) and finds herself quite at loss at what to do. Without fail, every morning, her heart would flutter at the sight of him, fast asleep next to her. His stupid, unruly brown hair gloriously mussed up by sleep; dark eyelashes that flutter over his pale cheeks, hiding eyes that mesmerise her; so very old but so new at the same time. Her new new doctor.

She runs a finger over down his side burns that he loved so much, admiring the way he'd scrunch up his face in annoyance; giggling slightly at the sleepy 'Mmmmph' that would escape his lips. She never thought she could be so... so _domestic _with him. When they first met, he was a crazy old man with a box, so set in his ways of running through the sky, leaving only star dust in his wake. She loved him, not caring if it was unrequited, not caring that he was 900 and she 19, not caring that he would live and she would wither and decay. She just loved him, eternally.

Every morning seeing him sleeping beside her, the first few rays of golden sunlight tangling around his slim frame; she simply couldn't believe that this was true. Finally, after so much wishing, dreaming, praying he'd come back to her, he had.

Guilt would always pinch at her skin then; her heart would sink thinking about a man that looked so similar to him, a man who she left on a windswept Norwegian beach, who held such pain in his beautiful eyes that it nearly killed her. A man whom held her heart, right from the second he took her hand, and told her to _run._

She'd then press a kiss to the sleeping mans forehead, gazing at him with tears swelling in her eyes, before reaching under her pillow and retrieving the piece of paper and pen she'd place there the night before, without fail.

She'd hesitate then, the pen hovering over the paper patiently, admiring the way the inky droplets made the mundane white of the paper seem more vibrant somehow, bringing it to life. '_Like he did to me_' she'd muse, small smile gracing her face. She never understood why her brain found it hard to form the words, because every morning, she'd write the same letter to him, every morning, each letter she'd write would be a ghost of the last.

'Doctor,

Sometimes, I think back to that day on the beach and feel so confused. Why did you leave me here? After I took so long to find you? It makes my heart hurt. Couldn't you have been a bit selfish, just for once, and tell me those words you were always so close to finishing?

But then, I remember how much hurt shined in you're beautiful time weathered eyes. And I realised, that all you wanted was to take my hand, just like you used to, pull me into that mad blue box of yours and take me on adventure after adventure. The Doctor and Rose. Shiver and Shake. We'd run through the stars, not caring, not worrying, just _living._

But, you are a time lord. More than that though, you are a _good man._ You're never selfish, even for the slightest second, and I admire that about you, so very much. So you smiled a tight lipped smile, pushed the pain and the loneliness deep down inside, and left me here, with him.

I love you even more for giving me him. He's kind, sensitive, witty and compassionate; everything that I could ever wish for, and more. Thank you for giving me a chance to live, to walk down the aisle in a pretty white dress, to hold my babies in my arms, to see my grand children. It's something now that I realise I could of never had with you, no matter how much I wished it could.

Anyway, enough about me, I'm turning into you, all this waffling on! How are you? It seems such a stupid, mundane question doesn't it, a 'how are you?' We're universes apart, and all I think to say is _'how are you.' _Such a human thing to say, I think.

What I mean is, are you lonely? Have you found anyone? Please find someone, my Doctor, you say that my version of you is broken and needs fixing; but you do too. Even a Doctor needs a doctor, sometimes.

I'm going to finish up this letter now; my eyes are filling up with tears so much it's getting hard to see what I'm writing. You'd probably roll your eyes at that, '_silly human emotions' _you'd mutter, shaking your head at the stupidity.

One thing I have to say though, before I go; is that I love you. I do, I really do, forever and ever. I know that you'll never be able to say the same, but that's okay, honestly. _I'm happy._

I love you. '

She'd sign he name with a flourish then, admiring the way her tears would make the blue ink run down the paper like raindrops racing down a window pane. Hauntingly beautiful.

She'd seal the letter in an envelope carefully, before writing his name, penning each letter delicately; like it's her final goodbye.

Turning her head, she'd see him, still blissfully lost in his world of slumber. He'd never know what happened to her on a morning, never see the internal struggle she'd go through each day, before the sun rose high in the sky. She liked it better that way though; she couldn't stand to see him worry, or even worse, start blaming himself for her silly confused musings. That would kill her, to see his eyes full of guilt for something he'd never done.

She'd rise from the bed, still clutching her letter, and walk over large windows, undoing the latch and throwing them wide open. She'd close her eyes, and savour the feeling of the rays of golden sunlight caressing her face.

Every morning, a letter would dance across the sky, full of heartbreak and sorrow and promises but most of all, full of _goodbye. _Rose would always watch the letter fly away, willing it find him, even though she knew it was impossible, for there was more than distance separating them. She still would screw her eyes up tight, willing the little letter to dance it's way through the stars, to find the little blue box, to find the man who's name was penned so delicately on it's side.

"Rose?" his groggy, sleep laced voice would call out, startling her.

"Yeah, I'm here." She'd answer, trying to wipe away her tears hastily, putting a tired smile on her face.

"Rose... have you been crying?" he'd question worriedly, taking in her puffy eyes, the glistening tracks shining on her cheeks.

"Bad dreams." She'd whisper hoarsely, casting one last look over her shoulder to see the letter still drifting away; a speck of white against a vast canvas of blue.

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><p><strong>So, thats it! Tell me what you think! :) Tomorrow will be the letter to Rose. R &amp; R! :D<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Here's the Doctor's letter to Rose :) I found this hard to write, actually! xP Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Letters to Space<strong>

Everyday, without fail, the Doctor misses her.

He knows he shouldn't, knows that really, she was never truly his to miss. She belonged with another man now, a man that needed her even more than he did. Well, that's what he keeps telling himself, because otherwise the guilt of leaving her again becomes too unbearable.

He's never slept much.

Sleep is mundane, and repetitive. There was so much to _see _so much to _do; _sleep really wasn't an important issue for him. Plus, sleep was when the dreams came.

The nightmares that made him wake up drenched in icy sweat, tears leaking from his eyes. When he was with her, the nightmares became just that little bit more bearable. They only came right in the depths of the abyss of night, and they weren't as prominent, as utterly soul shaking as before. When he was with her, everything felt that little bit better, brighter.

When she left, they came back worse than before. Not only when he attempted to sleep now, but every time he closed his eyes they were there, his own personal terror, lying beneath his eyelids. Every time he blinked, it was a real effort not to flinch, to physically recoil at what was waiting for him. Daleks were easy. Cybermen? A piece of cake. Give him a swarm of bloodsucking, face mauling aliens any day; he could deal with it. A man so brave, so unafraid of the monsters, terrified of his own dreams.

He was once so young, so new, so bright eyed and bushy tailed, so full of useless philandering talk of dogs with no noses, of tea and Barcelona; it scares him thinking about what he'd become. He was old now (so very, very old...); his eyes had seen too much. His views on life aren't optimistic anymore, he likes to kid himself that he can still the beauty of humanity, that the earth was still worth defending, but it was getting harder and harder. War, death, lies. The ugliness of the human race, that's all that filled his sight now. He needed her to show her the beautiful things, make him better, like she used to.

But still, gone now.

Above all, he was _tired._ Waiting for his death to come was the only thing he could count on. Patiently waiting for a time when he could close his eyes without fear, just to _rest._

Every day, he wanders the TARDIS corridors, alone.

His mind is still being typically doctor-ish, never stopping, whizzing with so many thoughts that it often amazes him the all of them can fit in that daft head of his. His converses squeak against the TARDIS grating, there's the usual hum of life, but other than that, silence.

He remembers days when the corridors would be filled with the wailing notes of Rose's favourite singer, or the buzz of her hair dryer, or her musical voice as she chatted happily with her mum on the phone. His hearts ached for her, terribly. It was only when he was running, that he could forget, even for just a little while, and the ache that plagued him incessantly would subside; just a little.

It's just what made his life slightly bearable.

Some days, when the universe just got too much, when the space in his head just got too crammed full of planets, of stars, of banana recipes but mostly of _her,_ he did the only thing he could think of to get rid of some of the pain.

He'd talk to her.

Obviously, he couldn't just _talk _to her, he was good, but even he couldn't rig up a phone call across dimensions. If he could, believe me, he would have done that a long, long time ago.

So instead, he takes a pen and paper, and he writes.

'Rose,

I just want you to know, that if I could, I'd come back for you, right this second.

I have all the galaxies in the universe at my disposal, and I'd give them up right this second, just to see your huge smile again, your adorable pink and yellow-ness. I miss you.

You're probably wondering why I left you on that beach, with the other me.

Never think you weren't good enough for me, because, oh Rassilon Rose, you were. As I said, a lifetime ago now, Rose Tyler, you are _fantastic. _Truly, cross my heart and hope to die.

I didn't leave you on that beach with the other me because I wanted to. At that moment, all I wanted to do was to take your hand, wipe away the tears that were making your mascara (or what ever on earth you call that foul stuff- I always said you didn't need it, but you insisted... oh I'm rambling. Sorry.) run down your cheeks, reminding me of when we stood there before, and me being a stupid no good coward and not finishing me sentence.

I know I never finished it. It still haunts me.

I'm sorry I never said it to your face, but I'm finally ready now. Rose Tyler, I love you.

I love the way you bite your lip when you get nervous. I love the way your tongue pokes between your teeth when you smile your gigantic, face swallowing smile that I love so much. I love the way you show compassion, to every living thing, no matter how many heads it has. I love the way your face lights up when I take you somewhere new- it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I love the way you bake me banana muffins when I'm sad. I love the way you cried at that outer space musical, even though you couldn't understand the words. I love the way you spend hours getting ready in a morning. I love the way you love your mum. I love your accent. I love the way you know me, more than anyone else. I love your hand in mine, its when feel at home.

I just love you, Rose Tyler. All of you, as long as my hearts keep beating.

I hope you're happy with him... well me, well him, but... oh you know what I mean. I hope you have the biggest wedding in the world, and you shine like the stars I took you dancing through. I hope you have children- little copies of you, maybe they'll have your warm eyes and my... well his _fantastic _(if I say so myself...) hair. Maybe you'll have grand children. I can't explain Rose, how much I wanted to give you all these things, but I can't. I never could. But he can.

You deserve the world Rose, the universe, the whole entire cosmos. You deserved more than me. Just do one thing for me Rose, _have a fantastic life. _

I love you, '

He signed his name then, not his real name, his title. 'Doctor.' He couldn't burden her with anything more than that, he couldn't cause his perfect Rose anymore pain.

Then he'd walk to the TARDIS doors, throwing then wide open. The universe in front of him was beautiful, swirling galaxies, never ending skies, teeming with millions upon millions of stars. He'd release his fingers slowly, one by one, until finally the letter slipped from his grasp, floating away between the stars. He knew, in his great logical brain of his that it would never find her, but that didn't stop him praying that somehow it would.

The TARDIS would rumble worriedly then, startling from his reverie.

Turning away from the beautiful universe, shooting one last glance at the letter lost in its beautiful mess, he would sigh, running a hand up and down the TARDIS' door frame comfortingly.

"Don't worry about me girl, I'll be okay, I'm always okay."

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><p>S<strong>So here it is! Hope you liked! R&amp;R? :) It would make me happy. By the way, I was originally just going to leave it here, but I really like writing these, so if you have any ideas about letter you want me to write, let me know and I might continue :) Thanks for reading. :') <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next letter! This is from 10.5, as requested by some of your reviews :) Keep your letter requests coming! And a HUGE thank you for all your reviews, I honestly didn't expect one! **

**I apologise for the shortness of this, I'm tired, and blergh. **

**Enjoy! :D**

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><p><strong>Letters to Space<strong>

It was a cold, blustery November night. The sky was flawlessly dark ebony, like the keys on a piano, and peppered with stars. Occasionally, colours would burst in the sky, causing the small crowd gathering below to let out an 'ooh' or an 'ahh' in delight. The sickly sweet smell of toffee was in the air, intermingled with the tang of smoke, and the earthy scent of a crackling fire. Children ran round and round, their happy laughter dancing in the chilly air, wrapped up in thick duffel coats, woollen scarves and mittens, clutching their own personal little stars, spelling out their name in twinkling light.

Instead of staring up at the sky, as the rest of the crowd seemed to be doing, the man with the unruly brown hair and bright red converse decided to gaze at the blonde woman next to him, who had her eyes trained upon the popping lights above him. She cradled a small boy in her arms, wrapped up snugly in a thick winter coat. He flinched at the sound of the fireworks, and Rose rubbed his little back soothingly, whispering comforting things in his ear.

His heart swelled in love for her, she'd make the best mother one day.

And now, he had the chance to give that to her.

"I'm gunna gone take Tony inside. He hates the fireworks." She said quietly, casting a concerned look towards the little boy bundled in her arms.

He nodded mutely, and she smiled at him tiredly, retreating back into the house with the little boy's sleepy face resting on her shoulder. "You coming?" she enquired, turning to look at him.

"I'll be along in a minute. Just gunna watch the last of the fireworks." He said, gesturing up towards the sky. She smiled at him then, and just for a second, it was just like they used to be. No expectations, no limitations, just them.

He sighed, watching her finger slowly retreat into the house.

Taking a seat of a lonely bench, he clutched his head in his hands. When he was with his perfect, fantastic Rose, he just couldn't shake the feeling he was never good enough for her. He was sure, with all of his being, that she craved another man, identical to him in so many ways, same thoughts, emotions, memories... same everything. Except, he was a human, and that man was Time Lord.

That day on the beach, Rose chose to kiss him. _Him._ Despite the other, perfect him stood so close to her, she chose to kiss him, and even though the gesture may have seemed insignificant to her, it meant everything to him.

(He tries to forget what he saw after. The regret shining in her eyes.)

Because they were lost in this world now, but at least they were lost together.

He stays on that old wooden bench, way longer than he first expected. She doesn't come looking for him, and surprisingly he doesn't mind. When the last few stragglers have gone from the party, he reaches into his suit pocket, and by the light of the slowly dying fire, he writes a letter.

'Doctor,

I never thought I'd write to myself.

I mean, I know that thousands of people write to their future selves, little muses and 'remember –how- you're- feeling-right-at-this-moments.' I never felt the need. I mean, when you've lived as long as me, well you... well, oh goodness this is awfully confusing isn't it? Anyway, when you've lived a good 900 years, felt every single emotion that you could ever comprehend, jotting them down seems not only a waste of time, but a terrible burden.

Well... I suppose I owe you a thank you. You gave me the thing we both wanted most in the world- you gave me Rose Tyler. I know how much it killed you, Rassilon, I felt how much it hurt you. I'm so sorry I put you through that amount of pain.

I just want you to know, you're a better man than me, for sure. I would of never been able to give her up, I would of just given into my selfish desires, and pulled her into the box and flew away, forever. That's what makes you a better man than me. You saw past you're heart, looked into you're infinitely intelligent brain, and knew what would be best for her, not you. So thank you, for putting her first. You're sacrifice is my gain, and I know how bad that sounds, but maybe thats who I am, because at this minute, I just have no idea.

"_**I demand to know who you are!" **_

"_I don't know!_

_See, there's the thing. I'm the Doctor, but beyond that, I - I just don't know. I literally do not know who I am. It's all untested. Am I funny? Am I sarcastic? Sexy?_

_Am I an old misery? Life and soul? Right-handed? Left-handed? A gambler? A fighter? A coward? A traitor, a liar, a nervous wreck? I mean, judging by the evidence, I've certainly got a gob."_

Do you remember that? That feeling of newness? You're unsure of what you are, what you should feel, what you should do. That's what I am now. I'm new, but expected to be someone already. And it's hard, it's so hard, because I know that I can't- and never will disappoint her.

I just want you to know Doctor, that she will always love you. I mean yes, I _think _and hope she loves me, but how can I be sure? The only thing I know is how much I crave that look she used to give you, that look of faith, and love, and hope.

I'll keep trying to see that, and one day, maybe, she'll look at me that way too.

It's what I wish for.

Yours,

The Doctor.'

The man with the spiky brown hair doesn't throw this letter to space, doesn't wish it to find its recipient, because he doesn't want to disappoint him.

So instead, he throws it into the smouldering flames, watching it slowly crumble, dissolving from beauty into cindered ash.

The irony of it hits him, and he laughs bitterly, before retreating into the house, shame of his cowardice making him cringe.


End file.
